Fat Cat At Large

SIXTEEN

Driving away from the police station, Chase wanted to talk to Anna. She called, but Anna didn’t pick up. The lovely day that had stretched before her, free and empty, seemed dreary and weighty now. It was only midmorning. What would she do the rest of the day?

She headed for the hospital to visit with Laci. However, she had checked out early that morning and was, as far as Chase could tell, at home. Chase had never been to Laci’s home and had to stop by the office to find the address.

Before she went into the office to look up the records, she flew up the stairs to check on Quincy. He lay in his bed, snoozing. The Kitty Patties she’d left atop his diet food were gone—and so was the food that had been beneath. His bowl was clean!

Quietly, not wanting to disturb whatever force was at work, she backed out and shut the door. Quincy slept on. He hadn’t even raised his head. He must feel good, she thought, to have his tummy full of good food, finally.

She pulled the notebook out of the desk drawer below the computer. She hadn’t balanced the books from yesterday, but she wanted to put that off as long as possible. Laci’s information would be in Anna’s handwriting, since she was the one who kept employee records. She preferred to keep them on paper, but Chase knew they were in the computer somewhere, too.

She paged too far and saw the posh address of Vi Peters’s place. Flipping to the Cs for Carlson, she found Laci’s information. She froze when she saw the address. It was the same building she’d seen Shaun Everly walking toward, that first time she saw him in Minneapolis. If she went to see Laci, would she encounter him?

Why on earth did Laci drive her PT Cruiser to work when she lived that close?

Oh well, Chase was going to have to figure out if she was brave enough to chance running into her nemesis. She walked the two blocks at a brisk pace, then hesitated when she got near.

Chase loitered on the sidewalk opposite the apartment building, where she could see the parking lot that belonged to it, until she thought she might be attracting attention. Laci’s PT Cruiser was there, but so was the silver Boxster that she thought was Shaun’s.

A black Lexus idled next to the door. The driver had the hawk-nosed silhouette of Torvald Iversen, and his long, thin fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

Chase felt a brazen anger rising from her toes. She walked to the driver’s window of the Lexus. It was open, and he turned when she approached, looking surprised to see her there.

“Some people have to work in the middle of the day,” she said.

“I am working,” he said, his eyes half-lidded and his manner cool. “Are you?”

“What kind of work is this, sitting in your car? Looking for someone else to attack?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for someone else to partner with my client.”

Shaun’s car was nearby. Could these two creeps be cooking up a scheme together?

As if her thoughts of him had the power to conjure up the man himself, Shaun Everly walked out the door of the building. He didn’t go to his car, though. Ignoring Chase, he got into the passenger seat of Iversen’s Lexus. The car pulled away without either of the occupants giving her another glance.

Good riddance, Chase thought. Those two deserve each other. Maybe Torvald would knock off Shaun when he found out what a cad he was. Maybe Shaun would steal money from Torvald and that would set things off. Maybe they were . . . what?

Puzzling over the association of those two bums, she marched up the front steps into the building. She pushed the door open and ran a finger along the name tags under each buzzer. None of them said “Everly.” Maybe the building manager hadn’t made up a tag for him yet. One was labeled “L. Carlson,” so she pushed that one.

Laci’s voice came over the intercom and she buzzed Chase in, not sounding upset to see her. How could Anna think about firing Laci? That would be like kicking a sick puppy.

After she climbed two flights of stairs, Laci ushered her into an apartment filled with ruffles and floral-patterned furniture. Chase decided Laci did resemble an ailing baby animal, maybe even a sick puppy.

Chase asked her how she was feeling and got a sigh and a woebegone expression. Laci lifted a limp wrist to wave Chase to a seat on the cabbage-rose sofa. She sat herself on a chair covered with Victorian striped fabric in various shades of pink. Laci’s other wrist was wrapped in an Ace bandage.

“What’s the wrapping on your wrist for? Did you hurt it?” Chase sank into the soft couch. When it bent her back the wrong way, she scooted to perch on the edge of the cushion.

“I sprained it when I fell, the doctors said.” She rubbed the bandage with her other hand. “I’m lucky I didn’t break it.”

“How long do you have to stay away from work?” Maybe, if she had to take a lot of time off, that would make it easier for Anna to eventually terminate her.

“Not long. I might be able to come in tomorrow. I could have a little bit of a concussion, they said. They’ll tell me when I can work again.”

“Well . . . why don’t you take another few days off. We can manage for a while. Business should be slower now.”

“Until the holidays. Then you’ll need everyone.”

That was true. If Anna got rid of Laci, she would need another worker. She still hadn’t talked to Anna about this.

“You know,” Laci said, “how I told you Vi was spreading rumors about Ted stealing things?”

“Yes,” Chase replied cautiously. She remembered. Also, Ted was stealing things.

“I think that’s what started making him so upset.” So upset that he dumped Laci? “He was bad then, but he’s ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times worse now. He’s almost been a different person since his father was killed. He totally blamed him for everything, you know.”

Chase wondered if that was because he had killed his father. Laci said he got very angry about his parents’ separation. Angry enough to do something to his father?

They both jumped when her buzzer sounded. When Laci answered the intercom, Ted’s voice came into the apartment.

“Should I go?” asked Chase.

“No, maybe you can help.”

“Help with what? What’s his problem now?” She might need some background before he made it up the stairs and arrived at Laci’s door.

“He’s going through some horrible things. He’s frantic.”

Chase had seen Ted before when Laci thought he was upset. But she’d never been able to detect distress in the guy so far.

When Laci opened her door, Ted grabbed her and held her in a boa-constrictor clinch until he noticed Chase on the couch.

“Oh,” he said, stepping back. “Hello, Ms. Oliver.”

He looked awful. His light brown hair, usually combed to minimize the premature retreat at the forehead, stood up in places and lay in messy wisps in others. His carefully cultivated three-day stubble had grown to be a week’s worth. Maybe he really was upset this time.

“Can I get you something?” Laci sounded formal toward him. Maybe that’s because Chase was there, or maybe it was because she had so recently almost lost him to someone else.

Chase cast Ted for the part of Hilda’s young man. She briefly considered Krystal, Ted’s former companion, for the role of the floozy, but didn’t think the woman had had any tattoos.

“A beer?” He sank onto the chair Laci had vacated.

When Laci brought him a can, Chase had to make an effort to contain her shock. Laci kept beer in her apartment? That was hard to picture. Although she did include a linen napkin.

“Tell Ms. Oliver about the . . . you know.” Laci perched on the footstool next to Ted’s chair.

Ted belted down half the can of beer and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, ignoring the napkin. “It’s about my dad.”

“Yes, it’s terrible,” Chase said. “I don’t know how I’d deal with—”

“No, not that he’s dead. Well, that’s bad, but . . . just before he died, I mean, I thought maybe I could, I don’t know, talk to him, get him back together with Mom. I mean make him come to his senses.”

Laci was nodding slowly, her eyes large and soulful and sympathetic. Maybe she’d been right that he was broken up about his parents’ impending divorce. Chase wondered why he would be appealing to his father when it seemed his mother had kicked her husband out. Maybe to improve his dad’s behavior so she’d take him back?

“Mom was seeing that creep Iversen, and I thought Dad should know about it. I followed him home after he was in your shop that day.”

Doris was seeing Iversen. Interesting.

“The day he was killed,” Laci said, in case no one knew that.

“I wanted to go into his condo and talk to him, but right after he goes in, this woman shows up. I mean, I’ve seen her before, but I think I didn’t want to admit it.” He paused.

“Admit what, Ted?” Chase asked.

“That he has a mistress. Pretty sure that’s what she is. Or a hooker.”

The floozy that Hilda Bjorn saw? So Ted was the young man.

“So, after she goes in, I figure I’ll wait until she leaves. But it’s making me sick to think about them in there. . . . Anyway, she leaves pretty quick. I figure I need to go in now, but I’m not fast enough. Before I can cross the street, Mom shows up. She leaves even sooner. She runs out. She’s all shocked-like. I’ve never seen her look like that.”

Ted paused to finish the can. He handed it to Laci, who hurried to bring him another.

“Did you go inside then?”

After popping the new brew open and taking a sip, he replied, “Well, see, I mean, Mom has this, this big red splotch on her jacket when she comes out. It’s her tan jacket, so it really shows up. She stops at the bottom of the stairs and notices it. Then she takes the jacket off and throws it in the bushes.”

Big red splotch? Hiding the jacket? That sounded awfully suspicious. In fact, it sounded like Doris killed Gabe. If Ted was telling the truth.